Telephone
by Shirasaka Konoe
Summary: His phone wouldn't stop ringing and it had been quite a nuisance. For him and for this lovely bartender in front of him. Jack/Pitch, proceed with caution. RnR please?


**Title:** Telephone

**Summary:** His phone wouldn't stop ringing and it had been quite a nuisance. For him and for this lovely bartender in front of him.

**Pairing:** Jack/Pitch, as in topJack and bottomPitch, yeah.

**Rate:** T?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

**Pointless Rambling: **My first story in this fandom. And, yeah, I'm kinda obsessed with bottom!Pitch for quite some time now. Well, because he is so cute and snarky and adorable and sassy and… urgh!

Okay, I should just stop talking.

Oh, forgot to tell you. This story is based on Lady Gaga's and Beyonce's 'Telephone'. Don't own that one too, sadly. *sighs*

And, this story may (I hope, but I guess it is unavoidable) contain OOCness.

Well then, enjoy! :D

* * *

His phone rang again. It had been the tenth time this night. He pressed the 'busy' button and back to sipping his cocktail.

Not a moment longer, it started ringing again.

_Neal Hanson  
_

It was written on the screen. He ignored it, thinking about how it was a bad idea to bring his phone to the club. The ringing stopped. He let out a relieved sigh, but groaned when it started ringing again.

"You're not gonna pick that up?" a young man behind the counter, the bartender, in front of him asked.

He shook his head. "Can I have something stronger?" he replied with a question instead, showing his empty cocktail glass.

With a chuckle, the white haired man took the glass from his hand and went to mixing 'something stronger'. The bartender was petite that it almost deceived him into believing that he was only a teenager.

His phone rang again.

"You'd better pick that up and tell him you're busy."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, anyone should've been able to tell that the other end of the line is busy if the person keeps refusing to pick up the phone. Especially when a busy tone is included."

"Just turn off the phone, then?"

"Can't afford to miss any call aside from this person's."

The bartender laughed as he poured the liquid in the shaker in his hands into a glass. "Here you go."

He took it and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol was burning his throat and for a moment, his eyes were seeing blur. "This one's good," he said, asking for another round.

In a short moment, a glass was put in front of him. He gulped it down again. And asked for another again. The same cycle went through for some time until he couldn't feel any taste on his tongue and he felt that he should stop for a while to let the alcohol slipped from him.

Another song was being played. His fingers tapped on the counter to the rhythm, but it stopped in annoyance as his phone rang again. He reached it out and answered it. "Yes?" he snarled.

_"Pitch? Where are you? I've called you so many times and you didn't pick up."_

"What was that you were saying?" he asked, pretending he didn't hear.

_"I said; where are you? Why didn't you pick up my calls?"_

"Sorry, again? I can't hear you; the service is bad in here."

_"Where. Are. You? Why didn't you pick up my calls?"_

"Oh. I'm in a club. The music is loud, I didn't hear the call. What is it that you want to talk about?"

_"I thought you were free."_

"I was, but you didn't take me somewhere, so I might as well spend my time alone."

_"But I want to take you somewhere and talk—"_

"Is that all? Yes? Okay, bye," he ended the call, pretending he didn't hear again.

He put the phone down on the counter and took another sip of his drink.

The phone rang again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Again. Again… he lost count. He decided to just take the phone because this was starting to get more than annoying. "Yes?"

_"Listen. I wanted to take you somewhere and talk this over, but you're not free at the time being so…"_

"M-hm?"

_"You've changed over few weeks and it's annoying, you don't even care about me and you just think about how to get away from me."_

"And… how exactly do I not care about you?"

_"You didn't listen to me and didn't do what I said, you're always busy, and you didn't tell me if you weren't…"_

"And those make you?

_"Well… Pitch, I hate to say this over phone, but I don't wanna make this harder that it has to be… I guess I'm breaking up on you."_

"Hello? Neal? Are you hanging up? Hello? I can't hear you," he replied with a bored face.

_"Pitch, I'm breaking—"_

"Are you hanging up? Hello? Neal—" he pressed the disconnect button, pretending that it was because of the service.

The bartender grinned at him. "You actually could hear him, couldn't you?"

He smiled.

"Care to tell me the problem?"

"There's no problem."

"Is it usual for you to pretend not hearing to the other line? If yes, then, okay, there _is_ no problem."

There was something in a way the bartender was speaking. If he was any other random person, he would've snapped and said that it wasn't his business and that he'd better stuck his nose into his own problems. But this man was different. He could tell. Still, it wouldn't hurt to tease the white haired man a bit right?

"Are you always this nosy?"

"Nah. Just when I'm seeing a damsel in distress." Oh, he was the one got teased instead.

"I'm not a damsel…"

"But you're distressed."

He laughed. The bartender offered him a little childish smile, as if saying; "Come on, I'm so cute, so tell me already."

Sighing, he spoke. "Well, I'm tired of his game," he started and watched the bartender closely, as if trying to find a sign that the man wasn't listening to him. But he found none.

Instead, the bartender teased him again, "It's alright. I'm all ears.

"You really do want to know, don't you?"

"Yup."

"Alright, then. So, he was like… whenever he wasn't satisfied with how I treated him, he would say that he was done with me. He constantly breaking up on me and the next day he would come and crying on my feet. If I didn't forgive him, he would say that I didn't love him. Isn't that unfair? I fell for that all the time, but not now."

A laugh again, this time from the bartender. And he realized that the man in front of him was… cute.

"So, I take it that you're single now?"

"I guess so…"

"Say… what's your name?" the white haired man fidgeted.

"I'm Pitch. Pitch Black."

"I'm Jack Frost, in case you wanna know."

Smiling again, he said; "I never knew a bartender could be a mind reader also." He slipped from his seat and walked to the crowd, turning back to ask; "What time is your shift over?"

"In five minutes. And yes, I'd love to keep you company on the dance floor."

"You should consider becoming a mind reader, you know, Jack?"

He was replied by a smirk.

In exactly five minutes, Jack came to him. He wasn't wearing his bartender suit anymore; instead he wore a rolled-up sleeved blue shirt, and a pair of casual jeans trousers. And he just realized that Jack wasn't as petite as he previously assumed, the man was almost the same height as him, but still looked childish and his body was lithe—it was the type of a body that made people lower their defense. In an instant, a pair of arms wrapped around him and he was pushed to the nearest wall. Jack was bold for someone his feature, indeed. Cold lips descended upon his jaw line and moved to his neck where they settled for a while, nipping, kissing and leaving love bites.

"I haven't told you I like you yet…"

"Well, I'm just that good at mind reading."

The alcohol was intoxicating and describing Jack wasn't far from the word either. He found himself disappointed when Jack's lips left him. It wasn't for long tough; Jack pressed his cold lips on his heated ones, asking permission to intrude his mouth by licking his lips. _Access granted_, he mused as he parted his lips slightly and let Jack ravished his mouth with that skillful tongue. How could Jack be so skillful? Had he been practicing for as long as he lived? Oh, and those hands that just knew where to touch. Had Jack been spying on him? How did he knew which was the right place to touch? And Jack was a sadist, it seemed. After teasing so much on the right spots, he kept on touching just the places that were exactly an inch away from the sweet spots and it made him writhe in agony, wanting so desperately for those agile fingers to just move an inch closer to the spots. Could Jack be watching when he was alone in his room, touching himself and moaned like a slut? Oh, that would be embarrassing. But, it couldn't be the case, right? They had just known each other…

"Ah…!" he moaned quietly when Jack nibbled his ear and rubbed his thumbs over the hard nipples that were showing through his tight black shirt. The touch was so good that it was almost sinful.

All logic left him. Except for one thing; Neal broke up on him, so this wasn't cheating. Yes, it was the only logic he held on. And it began to slip away when Jack was caressing the bulge forming at his crotch.

Who was Neal again?

"Hey… how much do I owe you?" he asked breathlessly.

"Lemme see…" Jack trailed off, "hmm… spend the night with me and it's in the house."

He chortled, "You've gotten yourself a deal."

"Your place or mine?"

"Yours would be nice."

They shared one last kiss before proceeding to get out from the crowded place and into his car. Jack took the driver seat and told him to just relax on the passenger seat. He nodded. He was too drunk to drive anyway.

* * *

A few moments had gone and they were tumbling in the way into Jack's bedroom. He enjoyed the feeling of being pressed to the wall by the white haired bartender as they felt around the wall to lead them to the right room.

_Finally_, he thought absentmindedly when he felt the door opened behind him. Jack pushed him down to the bed and tugged off his black trousers while he was busy fumbling and undoing the buttons on Jack's shirt, not even once breaking the contact of their lips.

His phone rang again. Only then did Jack break the contact and stared at him.

"Seems you've gotta pick that up if you want to have sex in peace."

He snorted at that, but reached out to his trousers on the floor, shuffling trough his pockets and pressed the 'answer' button when he finally fished out his phone. "H'lo," he greeted lazily, the alcohol was in his system.

_"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you like twenty times after the last time you picked up!"_

"Well… sorry, dear. I'm kind of busy…" he answered, his accent was still of the thick British. And Jack shuddered hearing that sultry voice with that elegant accent.

_"Busy doing what?"_

He moaned when he felt a lick on his nipple. "Busy… shagging off?"

_"You're cheating on me?"_

"Hardly. You said you're breaking up on me… so it's not technically cheating… right?"

_"I thought you love me!"_

"The word is 'loved', Neal. In past tense."

_"Listen here you ungrateful, pitiable, disgusting whore. I had you when no one else wanted to. You'd better be—"_

"Bye, I'm hanging on."

_"Wait—"_

He already disconnected the line and turned off his phone, deciding that, this time, he wouldn't care if anyone called him. Hovering above him, Jack smiled. "Well?"

"That man… he just doesn't know when to quit," he smiled. "Now… where were we again? I've lost track."

Softly and lovingly, Jack kissed his lips. "Don't worry. I've been keeping tracks."

A sound of laughter, followed by groans, moans, and cries of pleasure.

The phone was lying forgotten on the floor.

* * *

**END**

* * *

So, this is my first try (that is published) on Rise of the Guardians. This isn't my first story that I wrote for the fandom, but this one is the one that was done first, so… yeah.

Right. Please review? You don't want me to die of desperation, do you?

Please review to keep me happy~!

Love,  
Shirasaka Konoe (the crazy girl next door)


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